BY LUCY SCHULTZE

Dr. Richard Conn mulled Thomas Wolfe's famous saying – "You can't go home again" — but wagered his life and career against it.

More than 20 years later, it's clear he made the right bet.

"As I look back, returning home to Hattiesburg was the best thing I ever did," said Conn, an orthopaedic surgeon and partner at Southern Bone and Joint Specialists, PA.

Personally, that decision meant the chance to be near his father, Dr. Francis R. Conn, during his last years of life. Professionally, it meant the chance to build his practice upon the foundation of relationships and reputation his father had forged.

As an orthopaedic surgeon a generation earlier, the elder Conn practiced in an old house on Hardy Street, where the cases ranged from broken bones and back surgeries to children crippled by polio. Today, his own son's work is testament to how things have changed.

"Now in my practice, I do what he never did — hip and knee replacements," Conn noted.

A specialist in arthritic joint replacement, Conn, 54, has been on the cutting edge of his field in south Mississippi, particularly in the area of less-invasive procedures. He recently became the first surgeon in his area to use a computer-assisted navigation system similar to GPS in outpatient joint replacement.

Along with partner Dr. Douglas Rouse, he founded what is today an 11-member group practice based at Southern Pointe, a three-floor facility which includes MRI, outpatient surgery, rehabilitation and office areas.

For Conn, choosing to build a practice in his hometown was an emphatic way of expressing his admiration for his father's work as a busy solo orthopedist. At one point in his practice, his son said, the elder Conn was the only orthopaedic surgeon serving a sweeping area from Jackson to Baton Rouge, La., and covering the four-state Gulf Coast.

"Growing up with Dad was a matter of catching him when you could find him, because he was always gone," Conn said. "But there was something about what he did that interested me."

Showing a special skill in math and science as a young man, Conn initially studied engineering when he arrived at Mississippi State University in 1969. But after a year, he switched to chemistry, completing that degree in 1974.

A clearer choice for Conn was choosing a specialty once he reached the University of Mississippi Medical Center.

"I went to be an orthopaedic surgeon," he said, remembering how his certainty stood out among other first-year students.

"I was always proud of my father and always aware of the respect he had in the community for the work he did," Conn said. "That probably made it somewhat an easier choice to make, as far as an vocation."

Conn went on to complete his internship and residency in the Greenville Hospital System in Greenville, S.C. He then completed a fellowship in arthritic joint replacement surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., before launching his practice in Hattiesburg in 1984.

Although getting established meant doing a wide variety of cases, Conn was keen on focusing his practice toward the specialty in which he had trained.

"I started trying to nurture that by doing promotional things – like giving educational talks, developing arthritis clinic concepts and raising awareness for people in the community," he said.

Such efforts, along with those of Rouse and other partners, helped build the group's success, he said. And the boost the elder Conn was eager to give.

"For years when I came home, he was my greatest ally," Conn said of his father. "He'd find people at the store or at the gas station, and he'd be sending them to 'Ricky' to get that hip fixed."

Dr. Francis Conn retired in 1981 and died in 1987. But his son still sees patients whom his father once treated, as well as those who arrive at his office thinking they are coming to see his father.

In continuing to build upon the community relationships he inherited, Conn has made an addition to the post-surgery protocol for his patients: a cheerful rose delivered to their recovery room.

The tradition of sending a rose to his patients began early in his practice. Making hospital rounds, Conn had paid a visit to a knee-replacement patient who happened to be former teacher of his. He then proceeded to the next room, where a woman sat alone with the curtains closed.

"It was dark, drab and she was unhappy," he recalled. "So I sat down, pulled the curtain open and started talking to her."

The reason for her despair was soon clear, he said.

"She said, 'I have two children and neither came to see me or called. I just don't know why I want to keep on living,'" he said.

After nurses told Conn that the woman had been dragging through her therapy regimen, he asked his former teacher if she wouldn't mind sharing from her bounty of flowers. The teacher had him deliver a rose to the woman's bedside table, to say that she cared.

"The lady started crying, then the next day she perked up," Conn recalled. "Things got better slowly, but she felt good about herself. So I told myself I would never have a hip or knee patient of mine who'll not have a rose."

Since then, he figures he's delivered some 8,000 roses to patients over the years. A collection of thank-you notes in his office tells how much the gesture meant to each one.

"What's funny is only 5 to 10 percent mention the knee," he said. "They send me a thank-you note for the flower."

Conn, who was a frequent golfer until he got too busy for the sport, enjoys snow skiing, traveling and spending time with his two children and two grandchildren.


February 2007